


Teenagers and Trench Coats

by iamdamaged



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Lesbians, Murder, heathers but jdronica are gay, murderous children, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 03:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14011479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamdamaged/pseuds/iamdamaged
Summary: Veronica Sawyer was an average, ordinary girl from the average, ordinary town of Sherwood, Ohio, where nothing of import ever seemed to happen, until a new arrival in her senior year changed her life as she knew it forever.





	Teenagers and Trench Coats

Veronica Sawyer was an average girl in an average school in an average town where nothing out of the ordinary ever seemed to happen. She spent her days slaving away in classroom after classroom, following the monotonous routine that defines public schools across America, and her nights locked away in her bedroom, writing in one of her many, many journals. She did this in order to sort out her thoughts, but she often found that she grappled with her thoughts in much the same way that one grapples with a bar of soap when in the shower. Despite this, she was the sort of girl that nothing ever seemed to happen to- that is, until her senior year. 

Veronica stepped out of her house on the first day of her final year of high school. Having managed to avoid waking her parents for the majority of the morning, she had assumed that she could leave, but the sound of the front door opening triggered the sensors that most parents seem to have installed in their subconscious in order to keep track of their children. Once the obligatory first-day photos were taken, kisses were unwillingly bestowed, and advice was begrudgingly accepted, Veronica was finally allowed to leave. She closed the front door behind her, breathing a sigh of relief. Her house looked only a bit like an upper-class suburban house with patios and garages and white window frames and other such things, and looked a great deal like a mansion that no one in Sherwood, Ohio should have been capable of affording. Veronica hunched her shoulders, lowered her head, and ducked onto the bus, which had just arrived. She had been on the same exact bus for three years. It was a horrifyingly school-like shade of yellow, with most of the seats being torn nearly to shreds as if a pack of wild animals had boarded the bus daily for decade after decade rather than wave after wave of high schoolers, and judging from the noise alone, they might as well have. There is very little difference, really, between teenagers and animals, which is exactly what was running through our own Miss Sawyer's mind as she edged her way past rowdy student after rowdy student to slide into her seat at the very back. When she reached it, she congratulated herself silently for not giving in to the terror of walking past every single row of teenage idiots and choosing a seat in the middle instead or, god forbid, the front. Sitting in the far back of the bus served two purposes for her. One, she could separate herself from the loud and rambunctious crowd and simply observe them from a position which very few, if any, of them actually cared to notice. Two, it was a sort of a test, a test that she'd come up with for herself as a spur-of-the-moment decision on her first day of high school, her logic being that if she could survive the trip to the back of the bus without giving in to her fear, she would most certainly be able to survive the day at school, as nowhere else in all of Westerburg High School had quite so many- ah- explosive people packed into such a small space for a prolonged period of time with no ability to exit until the time was up and their destination had been reached. As it so happens, it was at that moment that Veronica realized that the time was up and their destination had been reached. Once everyone else had piled off the bus in a large and noisy crowd, she straggled along behind. She dragged her feet along the ground as she made her way to the large brick building that smelled suspiciously of impending doom. Now, if, like most people, you have never found yourself enveloped in the putrid scent of impending doom, you ought to consider yourself extremely lucky. It is a terribly difficult scent to describe, but for the benefit of the general population, I shall attempt to explain. If you took a few Kurt Cobains and stacked them on top of each other, attached one Kurt Cobain to each of the arms of the top Kurt Cobain, and proceeded to wrap the entire thing in a leather trench coat and douse it in a pool of gasoline, you would be left with something that didn't smell exactly like impending doom, but which those who had smelled impending doom previously would find hauntingly familiar. Veronica, attempting to waste as much time as she possibly could before she was forced to enter the school, came across a large rock and jumped atop it, stretching her arms out, throwing her head back, and shifting her weight so that her heels were lifted ever so slightly off the ground, giving her the general appearance of a large, odd bird about to take flight. She looked as though she would rather like the wind to blow her hair back dramatically, but seeing as the wind was busy fooling around with some leaves off to the side, she hopped down from the rock, hunched her shoulders, and once again entered the Thunderdome to begin a new year. If she had known at that time what was to come soon, there is no doubt in my mind that she would have turned on her heels and run far, far away from Westerburg High, just as any sane person would immediately run far, far away from this story. However, Miss Veronica Sawyer had no idea just what her senior year had in store for her, and so, rather than fleeing and saving herself an awful lot of terrible trouble, she opened the door and entered her high school, which, as many of us are aware, you cannot escape once you have entered. Poor child.


End file.
